Though the dogs didn’t know, it was actually the sound of the mechanical RV horn that created the most uncertainty in the grizzly and caused her to take two slow, defensive steps backwards.
Clyde was certain he was the cause of the bear’s sudden show of fear and so the Basset increased the ferocity of his defense of his new family, even going so far as to make a quite brief and unwise attempt to charge the bear himself. Bosco appeared concerned he was being upstaged by Clyde’s sudden ferocity, so the Golden Retriever began to dart closer to the bear while pulling his lips back to reveal an impressive set of gleaming white teeth.
The big grizzly, more confused than frightened by the much smaller dogs’ remarkably confident attack and with a shoulder still stinging from the shallow bullet wound, gave a final, exasperated huff and then launched itself over the ditch and hastily retreated back into the forest.
Bosco returned to Sabina’s side while Clyde stood with his four short legs wide and his chest sticking out with proud defiance as he stared across the ditch and continued to bark at the space in the trees the bear had just disappeared into.
“Come here, Clyde!”
The command came from Mika, who along with Jackson, had emerged from the RV to stand next to their mother. Sabina looked down at her hands that still gripped the rifle and saw how badly they were trembling. If not for the quick thinking of her children’s decision to blare the RV horn and the intervention of Bosco and Clyde, the mother grizzly would have killed her - and it would have been a death neither clean nor kind.
“It’s gonna be ok, Mom.”
Jackson had put his right arm around his mother to both hold her up and comfort her. Sabina felt the natural strength of her son, so similar to that of his father.
“Is that…”
Mika’s voice trailed off, not wanting to complete the question.
Sabina turned around and made certain her kids turned around with her. She saw no need to look over the dead body of the middle-aged man who had evidently struck the elk with his motorcycle. Both man and bike were a crumpled mass in the ditch while the elk was left to suffer in the middle of the road. It was a gruesome reminder that to survive the Race Wars meant also surviving the more mundane threats of everyday living – including accidents.
“Yeah, a man on a motorcycle hit the elk. He’s dead.”
The three then walked over to the elk and found the animal still breathing though it had grown too weak to move its head. Sabina knew what should be done before they left. Leaving any living thing alone to suffer wasn’t how she was raised. Everything and everyone deserved final mercy from those capable of giving it.
She again attempted to pull the rifle’s bolt down but it remained stuck.
“Here, let me try.”
Jackson took the gun from his mother and gave the steel bolt grip several firm shakes and then pulled. The mechanism broke loose as an empty, slightly deformed shell was dislodged from the chamber. Jackson then placed the rifle back in Sabina’s hands.
“Go ahead and get the RV started. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The two siblings knew the task that was about to completed and neither wanted to be witness to it. They had Bosco and Clyde follow them back to the RV and left their mother as she looked down at the crippled elk that appeared to be staring back at her just as intently.
Sabina carefully placed a single round into the rifle’s chamber and then lowered the barrel to within a few inches of the elk’s head. The creature blinked slowly, its demeanor transformed from its earlier struggling panic to seeming acceptance that its life had come to an abrupt conclusion.
I’m sorry.
The bullet served its purpose. The animal’s suffering was ended.
Sabina wondered if there would ever be another man to share with her in the joy and pain of life before time pushed her toward her own inevitable conclusion. Perhaps like the elk in the road she too would be left to suffer alone.
She hoped not.
-------------------------
EPISODE TWENTY-EIGHT:
“We have nothing for you, here. You must go.”
Preacher glared at the old man who stood with feet spread shoulder-width apart and stared defiantly back at him. He had introduced himself as Bishop Johnson, head of the tightly knit Mormon community in Nauvoo, Illinois. He wore all black: shirt, slacks, shoes and tie.
“We were told there might be fuel here. We don’t need much and then we will be on our way.”
Bishop Johnson was bookended by two tall, heavily built men armed with double-barreled, 12-gauge shotguns. Behind them stood a tall, lean and blond-haired young man named Kenton who had just recently celebrated his eighteenth birthday. Kenton had been ordered by Bishop Johnson three days earlier to keep an eye on the abandoned truck stop and report any new arrivals.
“What you were told is wrong. I’ll repeat what I just said. We have nothing for you here. Please go – now.”
Preacher eyed the row of gas and diesel pumps at the back of the truck stop behind the empty mini mart which appeared to recently have been nearly destroyed by vandals.
“Those pumps over there say otherwise. Please, just a few gallons of fuel is all we need.”
Bishop Johnson’s eyes narrowed underneath the white-haired expanse of his brows. He pointed toward the gas pumps with a slightly bent, arthritic finger.
“No electricity means those pumps are useless. It’s time you go.”
Akrim stepped forward, a gesture which caused the Bishop’s two armed companions to inch their shotguns upward.
“We can’t go without fuel! There has to be some way for us to get the fuel out of the tanks, right?”
Bishop Johnson shook his head.
“No, I am sorry but the pumps no longer work.”
Akrim’s voice betrayed his quickly worsening frustration.
“You mean they don’t work for us. If we can find a way to get some fuel from the tanks, why won’t you let us try? What harm is there in that?”
The Mormon bishop refused to be persuaded.
“No.”
Sarah noticed how Kenton opened his mouth to say something then thought better of it. She gave him a warm smile, hoping to convince him he could trust her. Then she took a turn trying to convince the bishop to give them some of the fuel from the truck stop.
“Bishop Johnson, sir, we need your---“
The bishop held up his right hand while his thin-lipped, wrinkle-encased mouth curled downward in disgust.
“I did not address you, young woman.”
Sarah’s mouth fell open. She was stunned by the accusatory hatred that the old man appeared to have for her.
“You don’t need to talk to her like that. We’ve been more than respectful of you. Fact is, we could have rolled in here quiet and just taken what we’ve been nice enough to ask for.”
Bishop Johnson smirked as his watery eyes settled back onto Preacher.
“If you had attempted to do so, you would be lying dead by now. We are not a violent people, but we are more than capable and willing to protect what is ours.”
A gentle breeze moved across the paved expanse of the once busy truck stop that had come to resemble a blacktop ghost town. A few abandoned trailers sat with their gates yawning open like metallic, open-mouthed corpses left to decompose below the unblinking rain, sun, and wind gaze of the open sky.
“We won’t tell anyone where we got the fuel.”
The Mormon hissed between tightly clenched teeth.
“There is no fuel! I will have my men shoot you dead if you don’t get back on that road and leave us alone. Don’t mistake my kindness for lack of confidence to do what needs to be done to keep us safe.”
“Since when is it kindness to turn away strangers in need?”
Bishop Johnson did not respond to Akrim’s remark. Instead he kept his attention focused upon Preacher who he rightfully considered to be the leader of the three unwelcome visitors.
“Can we at least st
ay here until morning? If you don’t have any fuel to give us, then that means we’ll be walking. We could use the rest before heading out again.”
The bishop glanced behind him at Kenton and then shook his head while taking a slow, deep breath.
“Very well, you can stay here but I want you gone by first light, understood? Kenton, they are now your responsibility. Brother Theodore, give Kenton your weapon.”
The man to Bishop Johnson’s right handed the shotgun to Kenton who looked down at it as if it was some exotic, other-worldly artifact. Then Bishop Johnson pointed back at Preacher to emphasize the seriousness of his words.
“Don’t neglect our agreement. Doing so will result in serious consequence. I won’t even require that you hand over your weapons. Just know that Kenton isn’t the only one who will be watching you. Do you understand me, young man?”
Preacher nodded.
“Yes, thank you.”
The bishop turned and made his way back to the battery-powered golf cart that had brought him and his two men to the truck stop twenty minutes earlier. Bishop Johnson sat on the passenger side and motioned for the man who had given his gun to Kenton to take off as the third man stood on the back of the golf cart with the shotgun in his right hand. A few seconds later the three disappeared down the road leading into the small Mormon town of Nauvoo located a few short miles away from the truck stop.
“Nice golf cart – and smart.”
Akrim looked at Preacher with a face tightened by confusion.
“Smart?”
“Yeah, smart. They hardly make a sound. People coming by hear an engine running they’ll figure there’s fuel and want to investigate. That leads to trouble. Those golf carts run almost silent. Isn’t that right, Kenton?”
Kenton’s eyes dropped to the ground as his shoulders gave a weak shrug.
“I suppose.”
Preacher gave the younger man a quick half smile.
“Yeah, I suppose. Thing is, you still have to find a way to charge those batteries. I wonder how they figured out how to do that?”
Kenton looked up and shrugged again. His tone indicated he found it rather pathetic Preacher didn’t already know the answer.
“We just use a generator. It’s easy.”
This time Preacher’s mouth broke into a full, white-toothed smile.
“Is that right? Generators, you say? Now what do those generators need to run?”
Kenton’s mouth clamped shut the moment he realized the trap Preacher has set for him – a trap he had so easily fallen into.
“Now Kenton, correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t generators need fuel to run?”
Kenton lifted the shotgun and pointed it at Preacher’s chest.
“I have my orders. You can stay here until morning. No more questions.”
Preacher lifted both his hands up.
“Easy there, Kenton. No need to be pointing that at me. There’s about an hour of daylight left. We’re just gonna set up camp and call it a night, ok?”
Kenton, thinking his threat had succeeded in cowering Preacher, nodded.
“Good, you do that. I don’t want any trouble.”
Kenton then retreated into the gloom of the mini mart and sat down behind the counter nearest the window overlooking the truck stop parking area outside. This left Preacher, Sarah, and Akrim to quietly talk among themselves some fifty yards away.
“I can see the covers for the tanks over there in the space between the mini mart building and the fuel pumps.”
Preacher and Sarah both looked over to the space Akrim described. They too saw the faint dull metallic sheen of underground tank covers.
“So how do we get the gas out of the underground tanks?”
Akrim watched as Kenton shifted in his chair inside of the mini mart and then whispered his reply to Sarah’s question.
“We don’t have to come up with that solution ourselves. We just have to find out how they’re doing it.”
Preacher pretended to be rummaging through one of his Harley saddle bags while he whispered instructions to Sarah.
“Go inside and ask to use the bathroom. Look for any clues about how they are getting the fuel out of those tanks.”
Sarah placed both her hands gently on her slightly protruding belly and raised her eyebrows in a seductive pose.
“You want me to use my feminine wiles to do some spy work, is that it?”
Preacher found himself once again smitten by Sarah’s natural beauty and willingness to poke fun at herself.
Damn, she’s fine.
“Yeah, something like that. You be careful. That Kenton seems harmless enough, but you never know.”
Sarah made her way toward the mini mart as both Preacher and Akrim watched her departure.
“She’s a remarkable woman, but bringing a child into this world alone won’t be easy.”
Preacher’s eyes remained on Sarah as she entered the convenience store’s interior. His voice indicated absolute certainty regarding the four words he spoke next.
“She won’t be alone.”
Akrim didn’t reply. He already knew.
Though neither was yet willing to admit it openly, Sarah and Preacher were falling in love.
Preacher watched and waited nervously for Sarah’s return. With the daylight already greatly diminished he could just make out Kenton’s outline located behind the counter. The former boxer’s body tensed as he prepared to rush into the mini mart at the first sign of trouble.
“She should be back by now.”
Akrim shook his head.
“No, it’s only been a few minutes. Give it time.”
Another minute passed.
“Dammit, what’s taking so long?”
Akrim placed his left hand on Preacher’s right forearm.
“Patience.”
When Sarah finally re-emerged from inside the convenience store structure Akrim smiled.
“Ah, there she is! See, everything is ok.”
Preacher made certain Kenton remained seated behind the counter before returning his full attention onto Sarah as she made her way across the parking lot.
“Are you ok?”
Sarah appeared slightly annoyed by the question.
“Yeah, he’s harmless. And a nice guy too. I actually had to use the bathroom which given the water is shut off and I had to do it by flashlight, wasn’t something I care to talk about. As for getting our hands on some fuel, I’ve got some good news.”
Akrim’s eyes widened.
“Really, what is that?”
Sarah tilted her head toward the mini mart.
“Kenton said he’ll turn the pumps on for us later tonight. He suspects the old guy has someone else watching us so he suggested we wait until it’d all the way dark. They have a little generator inside the store plugged into the pump relay. All he has to do is start up the generator and we can start pumping gas and then be on our way. Shouldn’t take us more than a minute to fill the bikes and the extra tanks.”
“Why is he helping us?”
Sarah looked up into Preacher’s eyes and saw his suspicion regarding Kenton’s potential motivation.
“Maybe it’s like you said when we helped those two guys out on the road before coming here – we all need to remember what it is to treat others with respect. He says they have plenty of fuel and a few gallons won’t hurt them any.”
“But why help us?”
Sarah shrugged.
“He likes me and he noticed I’m pregnant. I guess he feels a little sorry for me too.”
Preacher looked up to scan the area around the truck stop’s perimeter, wondering who might be watching them from somewhere just out of sight.
“Ok, then we make camp here and wait for darkness. Once it’s fully dark, Preacher should be the one to make his way into the convenience store to let Kenton know we’re ready.”
Sarah’s brows descended downward over her eyes as her mouth collapsed into a short-lived frown.
“W
hy Preacher?”
Akrim answered with a hint of an amused twinkle as he looked Preacher up and down.
“Because he’ll blend in, of course!”
Sarah rolled her eyes while Preacher shook his head and tried his best not to break out laughing.
American Survivalist: RACE WARS OMNIBUS: Seasons 1-5 Of An American Survivalist Series... Page 34
